


Convenient Truths

by bipalium



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Fights, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipalium/pseuds/bipalium
Summary: They say a fish rots from the head down, and Diamond Dogs are no exсeption. Even in the midst of mystery occurrences on Mother Base, grim minds of the command are filled with ominous secrets.





	Convenient Truths

It was a timid morning when Venom’s feet touched the moist steel of the helicopter landing zone. Soldiers jerked up their AK-47 and sang in choir _Welcome back, Boss!,_ and he shortly nodded in reply. He recognized the nearest guy with narrow cheekbones as the Russian he’d fultoned from Afghanistan some days ago. His sharp eyes were settled directly in front of him and he stood still, fingers glued to his beret.

“Found your ground yet?” Venom asked, passing him by and patting his shoulder. It felt stiff. A reply was a whispered _yessir_.

Ocelot had told him that his long absences might weaken trust and motivation of the recruits, especially the recently signed ones. Venom walked off the strut and, lighting up the Phantom Cigar, watched Pequod stumbling out of the cabin and amicably parroting his back pats to the guarding Diamond Dogs. The Afghan soldier – Raving Bear, Venom recalled – didn’t alter his solemn expression as the pilot slipped past.

They drove together to the Medical Platform in the melting darkness. As if sprinkled in with a syringe, gauze of scarlet and gold bloomed at the East. Chill gust was catching the strands of Venom’s hair and flapping them gently against his face. Pequod sneezed loudly by his side.

“Mornings here are so much colder than in the Caribbean,” commented the pilot, huddling in the seat. Venom tried to recall a specific one, to feel it, but it seemed that he had no precise memory of a Costa Rica morning. He nodded out of politeness.

“You should take proper rest and recover ASAP,” he said, peering forward at the outspreading bridge.

“Of course, Boss!” laughed Pequod, the sound interrupted by a series of quite severe coughs. “It’s really nice of you to drive me to the hospital like this,” he added, pleased.

“It’s nothing.”

When they reached the looming medical building, sunrays were shimmering with purple radiance, painting it pale pink. Enormous cranes casted shadows akin to a spider web.

Brisk as ever, Pequod saluted and ran off into the facility. There were so many doors, most of them closed with signs _Under construction_ , and almost no windows. Venom frowned and headed to the stairs.

He pressed a button beside the door on the third story, and it opened with a small beep. It was a room like any other, with sterile light and spirit reek, crispy with sickening tidiness. There was nothing much besides the bed, an IV next to it, an empty nightstand and a toilet. The patient sat up abruptly as the door slid close behind Venom’s back, and stared at him.

“Boss!”

Kaz looked like he hadn’t been stirred awake by the visit. His face was as worn as when Venom had rescued him from capture, only that the bruises had healed. His stubble and hair were a mess, and in the absence of his shades Venom noticed how terribly bleak his eyes were.

He checked the level of fluid in the IV and then carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. Kaz started, trying to lean forward, but Venom softly clasped his flesh hand around the man’s wrist – he’d tear the needle off if he stirred so much.

“You’ve been away awfully long,” mouthed Kaz. The crease between his brows deepened.

“Just a week,” said Venom. There was a twist of Kaz’s scarred lip, a wheezing laugh. Slowly, he shook his head, looking at his own open palm. Venom squinted to watch his eyes; the fadedness spoke of a possible cataract.

“When will I be released?”

Kaz’s eyes shot up at him. He drilled holes in Venom’s face, his frame tense with present agitation. He waited.

With a sigh, Venom brought his hand to Kaz’s shoulder and squeezed it. Reassurance he wanted to give, and yet Kaz’s body jolted under his touch with suppressed tension. He was wired, badly.

“Are you taking all the prescribed medicine?” Venom inquired, keeping his stare steady. Kaz blinked, once.

“I am.”

His chin tilted up. Upper lip quivered slightly.

“You aren’t,” Venom countered. He’d worked with Kaz long enough to know when the man lied, and he always did so blatantly and confidently.

“I ought to be in command and provide you mission support,” continued Kaz, ignoring the remark. “Ocelot does not posses the knowledge I do, nor is he competent enough with swift decision-making.”

What nonchalance shined through his now damaged, but still such assertive eyes. As if a whole decade hadn’t passed for him. Venom let out a small sneer.

“That’s my XO,” he said and patted Kaz’s shoulder. The smirk he got in return instantly made Kaz look nine years younger, save for his disheveled look and yellowed teeth.

Keeping the smile, Kaz leaned back to the headrest. His hand lay firmly on his stomach, the sheets shifted. The blanket hollowed above his lacking leg.

“When?” Kaz’s smile dropped, and he watched Venom’s eye with earnest and demanding look.

“I’m not a doctor to tell you when. Be patient.”

Kaz’s jaw visibly clenched.

“Snake, I’m bored to death. They re-patched my stumps alright. Excluded the infection. I’m as good as new.”

“You don’t sleep, do you,” muttered Venom. Almost automatically, his hand landed on the knee of Kaz’s amputated leg, making him startle. Kaz looked about, irritation growing in his features.

“Look, I can work alright without it.” He shifted closer, and now Venom could see every crease on his toughened skin. “I need to be on the frontline, if not literally, then figuratively. I didn’t rebuild Mother Base to be dismissed to the hospital. We will crush Cipher, sooner or later, but we must force events if we don’t want to end up bare-assed again. It’s kill or be killed, you know it yourself.”

His hand clenched into a fist, trembling; teeth ground, nostrils flared. So much rage was in his shaky frame, so much impulse in his ragged breath, just like a week ago when they were returning to the Base. Venom closed his eye and laid both palms on Kaz’s sides. He felt jarred ribs, seething pulse.

“Snake...”

Hot breath brushed over his mouth for a brief moment. When he opened his eye, Kaz was looking away. Confusion now settled in his features.

“Let’s focus on short-term goals for now,” Venom muttered. “You can’t rush into action unprepared.”

“That’s unusual coming from you.” Kaz leaned away again, biting his lip. “But you’re the boss here alright.”

He fell silent, and Venom stood up to leave. He needed to train new recruits in basics of CQC while he had time, visit current constructions he’d set to develop while on mission. Something unspoken floated in the air, and he exited the room with heaviness on his shoulders.

 

*******

Ocelot had to put the pup on the ground for it squirmed in his arms too energetically in the sight of Boss. Soldiers saluted on their way to the dining hall, and Ocelot could swear he saw guilt in the Boss’ face every time he had to say ‘As you were’.

With the last recruit disappearing into the building, Ocelot slowly strolled to the crouching Boss who tickled the pup’s belly with a bionic finger. It whined joyfully and wiggled its tail, and Ocelot glimpsed a shadow of a smile pulling at the Boss’ harsh lips. His chest tightened.

“He’ll make a fine soldier soon,” asserted him Ocelot, ceasing. Boss’ eye rose at him; he took the puppy in his arms, gently as if it was a human baby, and straightened. Ocelot peered at his face, marking every new scar and wrinkle that added to the legend. Oddly enough, he became taller, too, and now Ocelot had to lift his chin to maintain eye contact.

The puppy barked and plopped its tiny paws against Ocelot’s folded arms.

“Did you feed him?” Boss asked, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “He looks hungry.”

“I did. He just gets lonely when you’re away.”

It was strange to have to rise on his toes. Ocelot put his gloved hand on the Boss’ rough cheek. His breath was stolen, he was crossing. The blue eye watched him steadily.

The pup whined and nipped at Ocelot’s shirt, wallowing in demand to be held.

“He gets jealous, too,” said Boss with a faint grin.

“All dogs do.”

The platform was shrouded in darkness, and Ocelot locked their lips in an infirm, chaste kiss. The lips against his were unresponsive.

“Not here,” whispered Boss.

The pup breathed erratically with its tongue out. Ocelot nodded and walked off to the dining hall.

 

*******

 

“Boss, give it all you've got to extract the target before sunrise. The guard changes at four near the west entrance.”

“Roger.”

“Be careful.”

Kaz put down the transmitter and grabbed a stack of papers from a soldier who'd been standing silently by his desk and waiting for him to finish. There was a clank of metal as Ocelot stood up and walked a round, stretching out his arms.

“Commander, there’s also a request for expansion of the Animal Conservation Platform,” stated Jumping Harrier, his voice trembling. Kaz eyed the documents and shifted to look at the paper in his hand.

He nodded, taking the document. Jumping Harrier swallowed nervously under his prying glance. The man was recruited just a few days ago, and his nervousness around the command showed through a little too obviously.

“Alright,” said Kaz, managing a milder tone. “Thanks for delivery. Dismissed.”

“Yessir.”

He picked a pen from the desk, noticing out of the corner of his eye how broadly the retrieving soldier was smiling on his way out. Most of the papers required his signature, and Kaz braced to commence this challenging task. Writing with his left hand wasn’t as easy as he imagined it would be.

The briefing room was silent, for a while only the monotonous beeping of monitors interrupted the quiet. Kaz squinted at the new development projects set via Boss’ iDroid and extracted blueprints for cutting-edge weapons. Boss wanted to paint the Command Platform orange.

Kaz sensed a shift by his side and stiffened: Ocelot was looking over his shoulder. The gunman’s temple almost touched his, and he chuckled, pointing at one of the spread papers.

“Never thought he’d place an entire zoo here,” said Ocelot. Kaz rolled in his chair to face him.

“You find it peculiar too, don’t you.”

Ocelot folded his arms over his chest and shrugged.

“Not exactly. He’s different, yet the same. I just didn’t think it’d come to him extracting every animal he encounters.”

‘Different’ was not the most suitable word, to Kaz’s account. _That’s my XO,_ Boss had said with such a blank expression it wrenched Kaz’s guts inside out. And his monotonous voice, his impassionate gestures. ‘Alienated’ was more fitting.

“Ocelot,” Kaz uttered, twirling the pen in his fingers. “About what you said earlier, regarding Boss’ memory.”

“Yes?”

The gunman took a chair on the opposite and crossed his legs. A spur clinked.

It was a nice pen, metallic, solid in his unsteady hand. Kaz glanced up. Tension welled up his forehead.

“Could it be that he forgot something very important while he was out?”

They had been alone in that ward, Snake closed his eyes. Kaz leaned in, he’d do it, he tipped his head, parted his lips. Snake didn’t move an inch.

“Did he?”

A slight frown imprinted between Ocelot’s sparse brows. Kaz nodded.

Boss didn’t kiss him. Boss wasn’t aware anymore they’d been lovers.

A squeeze on his good shoulder made Kaz flinch a little. Ocelot leaned forward, mild concern glowing in his eyes.

“He will remember,” he promised. “Human brain is a tender matter; some areas of his took damage beyond repair, and partial memory loss has to be one of many side effects. You wait and see.”

_“He will come to, soon,” Kaz grinned, peeling an apple with a penknife. “I believe so. He will.”_

_“So imperative,” chuckled Ocelot, handing him a can of Budweiser. “What if he won’t?”_

_“He will. He didn’t take my life once, and now it belongs to him. If he dies, I die too. And I feel more life in me left than that.”_

Grasping the handrest, Kaz lay back on the chair. He needed a whiskey.

 

*******

 

Silver light came through the heap clouds that mimicked the rolling waves beneath them. Ocelot rested his shoulder against the temporary shower unit, listening to its boisterous splashing. A soft whine startled him, and he glared at the puppy that minced in his direction and nudged his boot with its nose. For Ocelot had approached the spot stealthily, like a fine night cat, he pressed a gloved finger to his lips, shushing. In response, the dog produced a demanding bark, snuggling up his feet.

“DD?” a rough voice reverberated in the cabin.

The stream of water ceased, leaving a chime of rare drops and rustling of clothes. The plastic door creaked, revealing the hulking figure of Boss: chest bare and hairs sticking to it wetly, damp ponytail loosened, bulging shoulders slouched.

“You want in?” he asked in a half-whisper even though nobody was around to overhear.

Ocelot slowly shook his head. His palms were sweating underneath his gloves. “Come with me,” he uttered, beckoning with his index finger.

Shortly, Boss glanced at DD, and then his face was close, breathing heavily as he leaned to Ocelot’s mouth. Ravenous lips covered his; Ocelot gave in to Boss’ strong shove and was pinned against the metal wall. He lost balance for a second, hands in the air, Boss’ thigh pressing between his legs.

“Wait,” he barely tore himself from the devouring kiss, panting, “let’s go to my quarters.”

Boss’ eye glimmered with silver of the moon. A corner of his lips curved up.

They walked across the platform, Ocelot keeping the distance and aware of Boss’ presence behind his back. His steps were heavy, echoing in the windless night.

“That’s my room,” Ocelot stated rather needlessly when they reached the door. He was seething inside. He didn’t want Boss to know that.

Although Ocelot tried to keep his room neat, it momentarily grew a mess as they entered. His scarf fell off first, there was a belt buckling as Boss dragged him to the made bunk bed. It creaked under the weight of their bodies, sheets crumpled. Ocelot breathed erratically into the kiss, Boss’s arms crushing his shoulders, his back, his sides.

That hunger soon morphed into idle lapping; smooth fingers on Ocelot’s fly, hands fondled the inner sides of his thighs through the fabric of his jeans. Ocelot leaned away, looking bottom-up into Boss’ gentle eye.

“Adam,” Boss spoke huskily, “did you miss me?”

“Yes,” he purred, throwing his head back as Boss sucked on his neck, his collar, unbuttoned his shirt and massaged his pectorals. He could barely feel the deadly force of his bionic arm in those caresses.

He wrapped his arms around Boss' middle, and it was almost unreal and so genuine at once, as if there hadn’t been a nine year break; their legs entwined with measured heavy bucks. Ocelot took a gulp of air as Boss slid down and dragged his jeans with him, lips around his flesh, teeth barely touching, perfect pressure, short breaths against his share bone. Haste faded away, Ocelot stroked Boss’ moist hair, feeling every coarse strand between his fingers.

“John,” Ocelot murmured, just to say his name, say it with Boss hearing it after so long, and met the intense gaze that pierced him to the core. He shuddered, arching his spine to the slow pumps, covering his face with his still gloved hand.

He was a little bit too excited, too burning, and Boss felt it, for he straightened and tugged Ocelot up by the shoulders. He couldn’t catch his breath, staring, smiling.

“No need to rush,” Boss muttered and kissed him in the lips. “We have the whole night.”

Slowly, Ocelot slithered from the bed, watching Boss watching him. He trailed his finger from John’s cheekbone to his lip, his beard, his neck, gracefully raising his hand and clicking his fingers.

“Bam!”

With a grin, Ocelot blew the tip of his impromptu gun. Boss smiled back.

So he wasn’t in a hurry. He threaded across the room with soft steps, feet like cat paws touching feathers. Stopping before the desk, Ocelot bent towards his Panasonic RX-5180 that he hardly used. He peeked over his shoulder for Boss’ reaction.

Boss sat still on the bed, but watched intently. Just as expected.

Ocelot pressed Play, and a quaint sound of the rewinding tape emerged, but he already knew it was the right song. Almost laidback, he straightened, stepped forward; his hips rolled with a deliberate turn and he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. It shifted to his elbows, revealing his chest. The piano took in with profound, sheer dramatism, and Ocelot walked slow paced to his prey, not tearing his eyes away from it.

The blue eye stared at him like a flashing light in the dark.

Ocelot trailed his hands up from his thighs, gripped the hem of his shirt. His hips swayed, puncturing the prominent erection in his boxers. He bit his lip, and Boss’ stare slipped lower.

_And isn't it me, putting pain in a stranger?_

Heavily, Boss stood up. His features were vague, gaze unfocused. He rested his flesh palm on Ocelot’s stomach; his fingertips crawled over Ocelot’s side, palm rubbing circles into his skin.

_Will you see that I'm scared and I'm lonely?_

Their mouths mashed, driven by unrestrained longing. Boss’ hands were persistent, brutal almost. Ocelot’s shirt fell to the floor, his breath hitching, legs shaking in anticipation. Wringing out of the iron hold, he dropped to his knees

_If you want it_

mapped Boss’ cock through his pants. The fly opened under his teeth

_get it here_

a harsh breath came from Boss as Ocelot wrapped his lips around his cockhead. Metallic fingers pulled on his hair

_I'm glad that you're older than me_

he craned his neck and firmed his lips, feeling how shaky Boss’ grip was, noticing how his thighs shallowly trembled

_Makes me feel important and free_

and clasped his fingers around the shaft, slowly pumping it. Boss heeled back.

“Adam,” he uttered under his breath. Ocelot looked up, placing a kiss on his cock. “Slow down. Not gonna last this way.”

Ocelot threw him back on the bed with a playful shove, smiling against his lips. On Boss’ lap he was, rolling his hips

_I'm in your way_

and arching his spine under Boss’ artificial fingertips,

_and I'll steal every moment_

watched his jaw tightening, a vein in his neck pulsing. Bringing both hands to his face, Ocelot bit onto the worn leather and pulled the gloves off. Boss was fixed on him, so beautifully lost like someone who couldn’t tear his eyes away from a flame.

_its a sweet thing_

Rid of his pants, Boss grabbed Ocelot’s hair, tugged, pushed him over. And that was as nice as it was savage, and Ocelot bit his lip, struggling to hush down a moan. He was forced onto his side, a bulky cock rubbed between his ass cheeks, harsh breaths scraping the back of his neck

_I'll make you a deal, like any other candidate_

They rode together, hitching, rocking. Each slap came out keen and loud, each thrust robust, and Ocelot brought his arm up, winding it around Boss’ neck. Boss pushed, his arms clutching Ocelot’s chest, face nuzzled to the crook of his neck, beard scratching his skin, teeth grazing against it. Ocelot’s hair cascaded down his forehead and blurred his vision, his mouth parted

_I'm having so much fun with the poisonous people_

he whispered John’s name, in highest affection, traced the scars that adorned rough skin

_Spreading rumors and lies and stories they made up_

and moaned in spite of himself when Boss groped his thigh and pushed his legs wider apart, holding his knee up in the air with the malicious bionic arm. And then, he slowed down.

Ocelot felt the pressure easing inside, Boss’ hold on him weakened. There wasn’t a hint of release yet.

“Tired?” he half-turned his head, seeking Boss’ eye to lock on it. He found it heavily shut.

A metallic clank, a yield of the bed under weight – Boss stood up, arms at his sides. His chest heaved under the tight belts of the prosthesis, his look darted about.

“Is bathroom... there?” he pointed at the door.

“Yes.”

And Boss dragged himself to it, shoulders sloping like a giant hill on which the whole world was leaning. _You find it peculiar too, don’t you._ Boss was older, and yet he’d missed so much, cut out of reality, trapped in a dreamless slumber. For him, it must’ve been like rewinding his life, clicking Pause and then Play, and there was an entirely different song from an entirely different album playing.

_Do you think that your face looks the same?_

_Then let it be, it's all I ever wanted_

Ocelot stretched, noting a cranky scrunch his back responded with. He was perfectly limp, a little worn. His neck tingled pleasantly from the illusive bites his brain kept echoing to him. He walked over to the recorder and pressed Stop.

 

*******

 

Withered grass rustled under Venom’s fatigues as he crept past a crook of a cliff. A crow croaked in the clear high noon sky, and he raised his head in search of it.

The roadblock was some two hundred meters away from his present spot, measured by eye. He dipped his prosthesis into one of his many canvas bags and extracted a pair of binoculars. The sentry was looking in the opposite direction, strolling to and fro on station.

Venom’s stomach growled lowly, reminding him that he hadn't fetched a single ration since they’d been approaching the military base at night. A cavity in the nearest rock wall was a good hiding spot, so he might as well use it for a short lunch break.

It was getting hotter with every passing minute, and Venom let out a small sigh of relief as his back touched the cool stone. A shade covered him fully as he sat, crouching, small gust whooshing against the rugged surface. Venom opened a larger bag on his hip and took two fat stripes of smoked tuna, then unlashed a canteen from a belt. The tuna emitted such a savory scent Venom’s mouth watered, and he opened it, ready to sink his teeth into the meat.

Click.

“Ahab, do you copy?” Kaz’s voice called.

“Ahab’s here, report.”

He put the meat aside, adjusting the speaker in his ear.

“Here’s the situation.” Kaz sounded like he was in a hurry. Wind howled on his end. Venom overheard him speaking to someone but couldn’t distinguish the words. “Wait. Boss, we–”

“It’s not an emergency, Boss,” Ocelot joined the transmission. “Current operation is still in priority, but–”

“Ocelot, will you let me finish?” Kaz snapped rather aggressively. His bark grated on Venom’s ear, and he slightly moved the speaker.

“Three recruits were found moderately injured in different areas of the Base,” rasped Kaz. “They didn’t come on the shift at their assigned time, were searched for and located approximately two hours ago.”

“Two were found near the crane on the Medical Platform-” Ocelot intervened calmly.

“Yes,” Kaz cut him off. “Transferred to the ward right away. The third was found in one of the temporary shower cabins on the Command Platform.”

Venom unscrewed the cap of his canteen and took a large gulp.

“We think it’s connected because of the... style they were damaged in,” Ocelot took over.

A click of a lighter and a sharp inhale sounded on the line.

“Ocelot, I swear to god, you interrupt me once more and–” a deep exhale, “They all look like they were beaten. No weapons used, evidently, bodies and faces heavily bruised, one has missing teeth, other got his ribs broken.”

A crow landed on Venom’s knee and stared him in the eye. He tensed, unmoving, holding down his breath.

“Another pecul–”

“Ocelot.”

“...peculiar thing about it, when they all woke up – apparently, they hadn’t been unconscious, just asleep – nobody could say anything coherent about the assault.”

“If it was an assault,” countered Kaz. “Each of them testified that they just got in a fight, waved it off.”

“Which is a little suspicious.”

“Which is _very_ suspicious. For now, I’m thinking to form a unit and commence a thorough investigation of the matter. The Intel team is sending you their data via iDroid shortly. What are your thoughts, Boss?”

The bird took wing as Venom tilted to grab the iDroid. He activated it and glanced at the cyan screen, then touched the icon of incoming data to receive.

“I don’t like that they won’t say anything,” uttered Venom, skimming through the received profiles: Cunning Mastiff from Combat unit, Crimson Canine from Base development and Jumping Harrier from R&D.

“There might be a wolf in a lamb's skin,” muttered Kaz. His voice was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Kaz, get a hold of yourself,” said Venom as softly as he could. Kaz let out a small sigh.

“It’s not necessarily a traitor, but we must put our guard up,” continued Ocelot, clearing his throat. “I suggest we don’t form a special unit but keep our ears open for rumors.”

“I agree,” said Venom.

“What?” Kaz gasped. His newly rebound concentration crushed to pieces. “We might be in danger of having our backs stabbed and you offer to rely on rumors? Ocelot, are you insane?”

Venom closed his eye. The wind weaved into his hair, and the noise of argument in his ear seemed to float somewhere far away.

“It’s better to be prepared, but you’re overdoing it. A new unit will interfere with recent developments and won’t do good for morale. Our recruits shouldn’t suspect each other. That’s practically an inland militia you’re suggesting.”

“But–”

“Kaz, let’s wait and see,” said Venom. “I understand your concerns, but it’s not the time to take risks. It’s our men. Have some faith in them.”

The transmission was over, and so was Venom’s break. He packed the untouched tuna and crawled out of his secure position. _Sandstorm approaching,_ announced the iDroid, although the sky was clear and the wind pleasant against Venom’s face.

*******

 

He apposed his cane to the railing and heavily leaned onto it. Carefully, Kaz drew a wrapped package out of his coat pocket and neatly unfolded the grey paper. A spicy odor of the freshly browned burger hit his nostrils, but he took his time before digging into delicious buns.

It was a hot afternoon and sweat layered thickly under Kaz’s labored uniform. Breeze from the sea was sultry, and his lungs burned with each drawn breath. He wasn’t bothered much with the heat, vice versa, the delusional vapor allowed him to throw all concentration into his hearing. The door behind him closed, and Kaz took a thorough bite of his burger.

Running water. Splashes.

“Aye Bear!” a low boisterous voice sounded in a small speaker implanted in Kaz’s ear.

“Yo, Crab.” This voice, seemingly belonging to Raving Bear from Support Unit, was shrewd and flat.

“You gonna grab dinner afterwards?”

“Later, I’m on the watch till midnight.”

Splashing ceased with a creaky noise of a turned tap. For a while, both were silent, and Kaz could only hear subtle skin rubbing.

“How’s... Harrier?” finally one of them spoke, most likely Death Crab. Kaz stopped chewing.

There was a long pause. The water streamed again.

“He’ll be fine. His ribs are healing, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

Kaz smirked against the steaming beef.

“You know, actually,” continued Harrier, “Commander Miller is outside.”

He tensed.

“Yeah, saw him too.” Another long pause. “I didn’t think that–”

The door screaked loudly, there was a swift movement – a salute, Kaz figured.

“Commander Ocelot!” both exclaimed.

“Now, now, at ease,” Ocelot stated cheerfully. “No formality necessary in communal showers.”

Kaz cursed under his breath. He swallowed the remains of his meal and shoved the crumpled paper back into his pocket. The speaker was off and neatly placed inside of that clot.

As he expected, Death Crab and Raving Bear hurried out of the showers. As they were out of his sight, Kaz grabbed his cane and headed to the door.

He glared at Ocelot, who was standing nonchalantly under the running water with his back turned to the entrance. Even spurs weren’t always enough to indicate his approach, and again Kaz cursed himself for failing to stop the bastard when he still could. With heavy steps, he walked up to Ocelot and pulled him by the shoulder. Ocelot’s eyes widened for a brief second, but then surprise was swept away by a sly smile.

“Afternoon, Miller. What brings you here, fully dressed?”

“You just ruined my operation,” hissed Kaz, digging his gloved fingers into Ocelot’s pale skin. Ocelot held his glare and shrugged his hold off. His neck tilted slightly, and Kaz noticed a small bruise on the side of it. He scowled.

“How so?” asked Ocelot, turning back to the tap and picking a bar of soap.

“They must know something. They started talking about Jumping Harrier’s injuries,” stated Kaz and grabbed harder onto his cane. “Also something about me, but I couldn’t catch a bit thanks to you.”

So matter-of-factly Ocelot was lathering up his hair, it drove Kaz nuts. His undisturbed look, relaxed posture, and the sideway glance he threw at Kaz over his shoulder – the man was clearly playing with his patience.

“Doesn’t the fact that they left upon seeing me speak even more?” Ocelot asked and tilted his head into the stream. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, water cascading down his face. Kaz’s fingers balled into a fist around the cane holder.

“I highly doubt it’s related,” Kaz taunted. “You must’ve intimidated them.”

“I don’t think so.”

Ocelot reached for a sponge, rubbed the soap against it and began to scrape it over his arms. Kaz waited for a proper explanation, but Ocelot just kept washing, oblivious. He turned his head to Kaz, a little frown pinching on the bridge of his slender nose.

“Miller, could you please be so kind to rub my back?”

Kaz’s brow arched. Least of all he expected such a question, and so politely worded, it sickened him.

“To the matter at hand,” he pressed, grabbing Ocelot’s elbow. His glove instantly moistened with light foam. “No matter what _you and Boss_ might think, I’m still positive that if we don’t act soon, we'll end up bitten in the ass.”

“You’re too cautious.”

Ocelot’s wet fingers slithered up to Kaz’s wrist and dipped underneath his glove. Taken off guard, Kaz stood still and allowed Ocelot to remove it; he was dexterous, even more so unpredictable. He realized his aviators clouded over and withdrew his hand to wipe the lenses. With a slight grin, Ocelot laid his glove on the tiled ledge.

“Come on, don’t be so stern. Take a shower, go have a nice meal. New cook makes amazing borsch.”

Kaz snorted. He stooped to pick up the glove, got some water on the scruff of his neck – that would dry off in no time in today’s heat, not a problem.

“Thanks for the offer,” he waved Ocelot off, heading out. The soup seemed atrocious with those maroon vegetables tainting it like diseased clots of blood, yet he could grab a coffee while sitting not far from Death Crab in the dining hall.

 

*******

 

Through half-lidded eyes Ocelot watched faded sunrays piercing through the blinds. Foggy light painted the room with crawling golden stripes. Ocelot stretched out under the thin blanket and propped his chin with his hand. A streak of light moved to Snake’s face, and his eyelids fluttered.

A soft kiss to his temple added to his wakefulness. Boss peered at him with a tired gaze of one healthy and one glassy bleak eye. Ocelot smiled as Snake held out his flesh hand and threaded fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear, cupping his cheek. The touches were raw and stirring, awakening a tender strain in Ocelot’s chest. From under his heavy eyelids, Snake kept staring at him, not a word uttered. Ocelot placed a kiss on his palm.

The sun glared into the window, bathing the whole room in thick threads of shimmering brightness. And in that lit space, they weren’t Snake and Ocelot; they were John and Adam.

John’s mouth still tasted like blood. Throwing the blanket out of the way, Adam clambered on top of him; John was warm and big and hard under his traveling fingers. Breaths were getting hotter, sweat began filming on their bodies as Adam shallowly rocked his hips against John’s. The bionic arm rose to his back, chest hair tickled his collar, and he leaned back, grinning. John’s eye was on him, but his expression was empty and lost.

Metal eased on Ocelot’s skin, and he rolled over as Boss sat up.

For a long moment Ocelot watched his scarred back. Snake stood up and picked his fatigues from the nearby chair. Breaking off was fine, but that expression was one of a blank paper.

Swiftly enough, Ocelot rolled off the bed and placed his hand on Snake’s shoulder. It flinched under his grasp. No pushing necessary, just supplying support.

“You alright?” Ocelot asked quietly.

Zipping up his pants, Boss turned to him but looked past. He made a small nod.

“Yeah, I’m just...”

His look darted about, settling nowhere in particular. Ocelot gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m a bit worried about Kaz.”

At that, Ocelot’s brow rose.

“What about him?”

Finally, the blue eye locked with his, and Ocelot saw it all. An expression so inapt, so uncharacteristic of Snake – vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” Boss sighed. “He’s so... hectic. And while it’s not completely groundless, I still can’t get rid of the feeling that I did something wrong.”

Ocelot let go of the hold while Snake put on his shirt and fastened the eyepatch.

“Miller, he...”

 _He missed you._ “You know him. He won’t say anything until he reaches the boiling point when he can’t keep silent anymore.”

With a confused look, Snake nodded slowly and walked off to the door. His boots echoed in the room, rearing the dust that burst dancing in the light.

“John,” Ocelot called out as Boss touched the knob. He ceased. “Take care.”

 

*******

 

“Amazing job, Boss, mission complete!”

He nodded tiredly, feeling the sand graining against his skin under the fatigues. He pressed Helicopter Support on the iDroid and, hearing Pequod’s cheerful response, leaned against a withered trunk. The storm was dying off, and Venom could see first stars peeking at him through a cloud of dust.

Click.

“Snake,” Kaz didn’t sound as excited as a moment before. The transmission was coming over a private line.

“What is it?” Venom asked, tapping the speaker in his ear.

“I very much appreciate your saving rare species from the hot zone, so will our client, but I think you need to... restrain yourself a little for a while. Animal Conservation Platform is under refurbishment.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So... You coming back tonight?”

Something strained was in his voice, and if Venom didn’t know Kaz any better he’d assume that he’d exhausted himself with non-stop radio support. Indeed, nobody was as brilliant at that as Kaz. But there was something else.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking a break,” Venom uttered quietly. “You want something?”

There was a pause filled with rustling on Kaz’s side. Venom squatted into a more comfortable position and his arm brushed against a canvas bag. In the room where he’d found blueprints some hours ago he’d also snatched a fine bottle of Havana Club. Nothing spoke more of Kaz’s tastes how he remembered them from MSF as Havana Club, so he grabbed the bottle without a second thought. But did they really need to wait for an occasion?

“Listen, Kaz,” Venom spoke, interrupting a half-eaten syllable Kaz produced. “I’ve got something special over here, so if you don’t mind a little downtime, I offer you not to go to bed yet.”

“I was hardly going to,” scoffed Kaz, although he sounded a bit more cheerful. “But it’d better be something good.”

Venom smiled, and felt Kaz smiling back at him miles away in Seychelles.  

“You bet.”

One captivating thing about the night rides was the lights; red, silver, sometimes blue, they blinked like hundreds of eyes of an invisible beast as far as the horizon sprawled.

Pequod’s back was slouched, and he hummed to the song from a newly extracted tape. Venom didn’t quite like the word stolen; those tapes Afghan soldiers listened to were mostly recorded over the radio to begin with. And he doubted that Soviet radio broadcasted American pieces – wasn’t too politically correct – so the tapes must’ve changed hands many, many times.

“Loving this one!” yelled Pequod from the cockpit and showed him a thumb up. Venom showed one back.

_Lost inside_

_Adorable illusion and I cannot hide_

_I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside_

_We coulda made it cruising, yeah_

Back at the Base, Venom jumped out of the cabin, greeted by fresh wind and a few soldiers saluting him. He headed straight to the showers, minding what Kaz once said about the smell.

They hadn't had a chance to spend time together since Kaz was released from the hospital. Business always came first, it had been like that at MSF too, but Venom couldn’t help but think about their rare but jolly leisure evenings in the Caribbean. Kaz used to play as soldiers chatted and drank; he’d come around and break in a song, sloppily, and Paz would scoff at his amateur singing every so often. But Venom couldn’t help but want to listen to it again, it was so natural, without any gloss. Perhaps he could try talking Kaz into it.

He changed into a clean black sweater and another pair of cammo pants, grabbed the trophy rum and walked to Kaz’s quarters. The room seemed silent inside as he stood in front of the door. He knocked twice.

“Kaz, it’s me,” he announced and, wanting to save Kaz a labored walk, pulled at the knob. “I’m coming in.”

His room was dimly lit, it faintly smelled of dampness. A massive desk loaded with documents caught Venom’s attention first, next to it stood a chair with Kaz’s coat hanging from its back. Kaz himself was half-lying on the bed, aviators indoors, with a book in his gloved hand. He sat up upon seeing Venom and put the book on the drawer. _Animal Farm,_ the cover read.       

“So.” Kaz straightened. His face was hard to read in the poor lighting. “What’s the business?”

Venom motioned with a bottle in his good hand. A smile pulled at Kaz’s mouth.

“Liquor is prohibited on Mother Base.”

“But I am the Boss,” Venom shrugged and pulled the chair to sit on.

“Ah.” Now Kaz was beaming from ear to ear. “What’s the order then?”

“Hit.”

“Roger that, Boss.”

Quite skillfully, Kaz opened the drawer and took out two shot glasses. Venom’s brow rose.

“You just said liquor was prohibited, how come you have these?” he said and took glasses from Kaz, uncapping the bottle and pouring them drinks.

“It became prohibited after Ocelot brought in vodka one day, approximately three years ago,” Kaz explained, taking the glass Venom handed him. “Thanks.”

“What’s the story?” Venom dried his glass. Warmth spread through his body, and he leaned back on the chair.

“Nothing much,” Kaz shook his head and followed suit with emptying his glass. He squinted his eyes, passing the glass for a refill. “Told me there wasn’t a single man who could outdrink him. Dared me, and I couldn’t refuse the challenge.”

Venom chuckled, pouring more rum.

“It’s a shame I missed that. My money would be on him, though.”

At that, Kaz bristled up. It was hard to tell if he was serious or not with the aviators.

“I presume his vodka was doctored. Normally I’ve got no problem with strong alcohol.”

“So you lost.” Venom nursed his glass. Kaz glanced to the side.

“Alas. But I bet 1000 GMP I could outdrink you now.”

Venom looked Kaz in the eye. His expression was calm but far from serene, something metallic shined in his gaze.

“I have a better idea,” uttered Venom, setting his glass onto the desk. “You’ve got cards?”

“Oh,” Kaz’s lips sharpened in a smirk. “Yes.”

Laboriously, Kaz climbed down from the bed and grabbed onto the headrest. His features roughened as he took a step forward, and Venom instinctively drew his arm for support.

“I’m fine,” Kaz assured him. However, he didn’t hurry to escape from the hold and lingered for a moment, patting the back of Venom’s hand.

There was no way Kaz could play guitar again, not even with help. His coordination as he limped to the wardrobe was relatively fine, but to open the door he had to prop against the panel. After a while, a worn deck showed in his gloved fingers, and Venom wondered how much Kaz actually struggled to put on that glove every day.

“I’ve only got a 36 card deck,” said Kaz, his breath hitching with small pants as he walked back. “This calls for Russian 21, you mind?”

Venom shook his head. Back in MSF days, Kaz preferred Russian 21 for its short deck made it easy to count cards, at which he was just as brilliant as at funds holding. Many nights they’d spent playing, often with Kaz as the dealer, for soldiers complained that he cheated. Little did they know Kaz never had.

“I think there’s no point in betting GMP now,” said Kaz, sitting on the bed and handing the deck to Venom. He crossed his legs in a lotus position and looked around as if searching for a substitute.

“Shots,” Venom proposed. Kaz’s lip quirked up, his shoulders bulged as he shifted closer.

“What’s the benefit?” he asked somewhat dubiously.

“It’s simple.” Rather nimbly, Venom began shuffling cards under Kaz’s attentive gaze. “Starting bet is half a glass, you double with each hit. When the round ends, the winner takes it all at once.”

Slouching but still focused on the deck, Kaz rubbed his chin. His stubble had grown to form an almost wholesome beard, the question was whether he was letting it grow deliberately or couldn’t properly use a razor.

“So,” Kaz drawled, “either I get wasted or watch you get wasted.”

“Yeah.”

They both chuckled. Having some rum spreading in his system, Venom found Kaz’s short laugh heartily nice. Like in old days.

Venom laid out two cards for Kaz who took them but didn’t look, and then two for himself. A quick glance to Kaz’s eyes didn’t tell much because his aviators gave him a strategic advantage, and Venom checked his hand. Not bad, a Queen and a six. Keeping his face stoned, Venom looked up to Kaz.

Even though Kaz was a master of unreadable facade, something harsh streaked his features. That was new, but it was too early to judge.

“Hit,” Kaz beckoned, and Venom carefully passed him a card.

“Hit,” he said and picked one for himself.

A Jack. Still wasn’t bad, ten left to the goal. Kaz stared at his cards, knee jerking. It was funny how tense he was, but his previous cool was also present. There were nights at MSF that Kaz spent gambling and somehow managed to look fresh and well-rested in the morning. One such match queerly resembled the current; he was in a med bay – must’ve gotten shot during a mission, he couldn’t quite remember – and Kaz came to entertain him. Beyond the porthole the sun radiated and laced through Kaz’s hair, illuminating his glasses. He was wearing a shit-eating grin, blindingly white in contrast to his bronze tan.

“Hit,” Kaz stated, a little hoarse. He chewed his lip, a bit of sweat gathering on his temples. Perhaps he’d got an ace, that would be plausible. Venom distributed new cards and peeked at his hand: a seven came, making it worth seventeen.

Oddly enough, he felt an immense urge to hit again. He’d had one Jack already, which greatly lowered the chances to get another; he could still rely on a Queen or a King. Although was such a risk worthy? The voice of reason spoke that it was ridiculous. Venom couldn’t wrap his head around why back at MSF he had been so keen on going all the way until he got at least twenty. Not that the stake was high now, but such a movement was reckless. He felt his forehead burning, blood circulating faster. His body longed for another hit. Which was not at all necessary.

“Double down,” said Kaz and snatched an offered card faster than Venom could blink.

“Stand,” said Venom and put his cards on his knee.

“Huh? Really, Boss?”

A grain of disappointment edged into Kaz’s voice, and Venom could bet he’d got at least nineteen judging by his straightened frame and the confident glint in his eyes.

“I’ve had enough,” Venom attempted a smile. “Break?”

“Break.”

Kaz slammed his hand in front of himself, spreading it. Fair enough, Venom didn’t guess right but he was close in his assumption: an Ace, a Queen and three Jacks there were, making it twenty. Good game indeed. He showed his cards, Kaz leaned forward.

“Just seventeen? It’s not like you at all to stop at seventeen, Snake. Come on, what’s wrong?”

“Just thought it was enough is all.”

With that, Venom tilted the bottle and poured a shot. Kaz took it and downed in a heartbeat. One more shot, and Kaz exhaled before drying it in one gulp.

“Care to take a break?” Venom asked, filling the glass one last time, exactly to pay off the bet. Kaz waved his hand resolutely, panting hard. He grabbed the glass and raised it in a silent toast before gulping the rum down.

For a few moments he sat, silently peering on his knees, fingers rubbing a nonexistent stain on his pants. He burped quite loudly and bent to the nightstand, making Venom half-rise in alert. Softly, he placed his flesh hand on Kaz’s shoulder, ready to walk him to the bathroom if he suddenly felt sick.

But Kaz didn’t. He took a cigarette and gestured for a lighter, which Venom offered. He rolled the wheel, and Kaz inhaled thoroughly, smoke streaming from his flaring nostrils. The comforting, strong scent made Venom crave one too, and he reached into his pocket for the Phantom Cigar.     

“It’s funny,” Kaz spoke lowly. There was a brief laugh, but nothing about amusement to it. A deep frown was creasing his forehead. “You used to say that electronic cigarettes were nothing but a sorry excuse for a real cigar. Said you’d never give up on the Cuban.”

Kaz took a long drag and let out the smoke with a sharp breath. He shook his head and thrusted the spent cigarette into an ashtray on the nightstand.

“Now you smoke this and don’t hit after seventeen, huh.”

He leaned forward, and Venom saw the disturbed wrinkles around his bleak eyes through the tinted glass. He was so close that Venom could feel alcohol in his breath. Kaz’s mouth curved in a rueful arc.

“Snake,” he muttered, and raised his hand. Venom felt a scarce touch on the shrapnel protruding from his skull; it was hardly a thumb brushing against the tip, but the sensation went deep into his brain, making dark circles dance in front of his eye.

“You’ve changed so much.”

The touch was gone, and Venom blinked to adjust his vision. For a second it seemed to him that Kaz who was sitting on the bed in front of him was young, bronze-tanned and shining. With a slide of an eyelid that image vanished, revealing a worn, unshaven and drunk Kaz who was leaning against the wall.

“Wanna go another round?” Kaz offered in a dull, exhausted voice.

 

 *******  

            

The sun was scalding mercilessly, and Kaz was partially glad to escape into the coolness of the medical facility. Bright rays crossed the dark room through the bars, casting shadows on few present faces. Those were the part Kaz wasn’t so happy about.

Ocelot straightened against the grids he’d been leaning on and grinned at him in that cryptic way, as if telling him _What are you gonna do now, Miller?_ Truth be told, Kaz would rather avoid the place; the inhabitant of the cage, half-animal, half-plant in a human form didn’t pique his interest. He’d throw her off the strut and into the sea instead of being watched from the corner where she washed her face without minding anyone’s presence. One of the guards clearly couldn’t take his eyes away from the water running down her breasts.

With a loud thud, Kaz propped his cane against the bars and tilted his head closer to Ocelot, whose grin was still in place.

“Revolver Ocelot,” Kaz spoke low enough for the soldiers not to overhear, “if things haven’t changed since this morning, I’m still the Commander of Mother Base.”

What a distasteful curve Ocelot’s mouth formed at that.

“What’s wrong, Miller?” he asked in that sickening silky voice of his. Kaz stepped around, Ocelot’s gaze following, and ceased in front of him, almost pressing him to the bars. Having no other options, Ocelot turned and faced him.

“I told you to be in the briefing room ten minutes ago, didn’t I?” Kaz prompted, puncturing his words with a flat wave of his hand. “And you’re still here, watching... this.”

He vaguely gestured in Quiet’s direction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her coldly staring back at him. She undoubtedly understood every single word.

“This is called observing, Miller,” uttered Ocelot and so matter-of-factly slid his hand to the revolver holstered to his belt. “Watch me.”

With a graceful and precise movement, Ocelot threw the gun into the air, caught it with his firm fingertips. His index finger curled against the trigger, and he lifted the gun, spinning it around his wrist with a steady arm. There was no extra tension, no visible effort as he rolled it about from one hand to another, skied it and caught it again. For a second, Kaz found himself mesmerized, unable to tear his eyes from the view, even though he’d seen the trick plenty. And that quickly shot anger up his veins.

“Finished fucking around?” he asked with his best cocksure tone as Ocelot neatly plunged the revolver back into its holster. A mild sound as of a bird sounded close to them, and Kaz turned in alert. Quiet covered her mouth with a gloved hand, her eyes speaking of a smile.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and had to turn back, confused. Ocelot looked so damn pleased, that show-off. How could he befriend a creature this potentially dangerous so casually as if it wasn’t one of their enemies? What was he thinking, what was Boss thinking?

“Back to the issue,” said Kaz, pushing Ocelot into the shadow. The room was brighter than it had first appeared with that giant porthole in the ceiling, and Kaz’s eyes slowly began to burn.

“Hm?”

He shoved his hand into an inside pocket of his coat and handed Ocelot recent funding documents. The latter took them and skimmed through, brow rising.

“What about these?” he asked, seemingly uncomprehending.

“There’s your signature on each of them,” Kaz pointed out. “Funding expanse requests for Medical and Animal Conservation platforms, respectively.”

One more time Ocelot glanced at the documents and then shifted his eyes to Kaz’s face, handing the papers back.

“Well, yeah, I signed them,” he said with oblivious nonchalance. “What’s the matter with that?”

Pocketing the documents, Kaz brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Rubbed it, sighed. Was it really that hard to understand?

“Ocelot,” Kaz spoke quietly and calmly, knowing that putting more effort into it would only spur his own nerves and have no positive effect whatsoever. “While I do agree that we should be investing into our men's residential conditions and wellbeing, the current turnaround suggests the priority has to be put on development and expansion of our forces. To put it shortly,” he added, noticing how Ocelot’s mouth arched in an upcoming argument, “business isn’t going that well for us to be throwing money about like some nouveau riche simpletons.”

With narrowing eyes, Ocelot scanned the room behind Kaz's back: the guards there had gone suspiciously quiet, although Kaz made sure not to raise his voice too much. And, still with undisturbed composure, Ocelot grasped Kaz’s shoulder and walked him to the exit, passing by the cell.

“You see, Miller,” he uttered in a whisper on his way, “such attitude of yours is why we’ve got trouble with staff morale. People mostly come here on their own volition, our only advertisement is word-of-mouth. We are infamous to some extent, but if we want–”

He stopped quite abruptly, and Kaz ceased his pace as well. In alert, he observed as Quiet’s hand clawed into Ocelot’s elbow through the bars, and warily reached into his coat to grab the revolver, if it came to that.

But Quiet didn’t make a move; she released Ocelot’s arm as he silently stared at her, and, with a smooth and inoffensive gesture, handed him a small folded piece of paper. Kaz and Ocelot exchanged glances, then looked up at her: she slowly walked off with her back to them, hips swaying lightly. Likewise, matter-of-factly, she dropped onto the cot and raised her feet in the air, as if Kaz and Ocelot weren’t there at all.

“Open it,” Kaz urged even though Ocelot was already unfolding the paper.

It appeared to be, in fact, a note. Cheap paper, barely 3x3 inches. Kaz half-expected to see handwriting, and yet it was printed by a seemingly old typewriter. The words were all capitals, ink relatively fresh. He squinted to read over Ocelot’s shoulder.

PREDAWN AT THE EAST

ANY DOG LONGS TO SHED BLOOD

SAND IN THE FUR

WHERE SALT LICKS MY BOOTS

LET US CROSS SWORDS

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Ocelot, addressing Quiet whose nape emphatically spoke of unwillingness to answer. Which was no fresh news, of course, but Ocelot’s features still twisted in frustration.

Kaz took the note and picked at it. There was no hidden agenda, nothing besides the printed words.

“I don’t think it’s her doing,” he said, giving the note back to Ocelot.

“Well, unless she’d had it hidden somewhere, she couldn’t type it in the cell indeed,” nodded Ocelot, raising the note to the sunrays and examining it. “Any more assumptions?”

With that, he turned to the guards. Both of them jolted uneasily, clearly bewildered of what was required from them.

Ocelot showed the paper to one, then to another. Both shrugged.

“I dunno, sir!” Smoking Octopus said. “I thought it was a flyer of sorts.”

“A flyer?” Kaz interrupted, limping to them.

“Yeah,” the soldier nodded eagerly, apparently pleased to have command’s attention. “I’ve seen a few of those scattered ‘round the Base.”

“So you’ve seen it before,” echoed Kaz. “Where?”

Smoking Octopus frowned, recalling. Ocelot kept examining the paper, turning it about and narrowing his eyes at it.

“Somewhere on the Command Platform, here, in the dining hall, sir. I didn’t think it was anything important.”

“It might be,” Ocelot concluded, tucking the note into his chest pocket. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

With that, Ocelot pushed Kaz’s shoulder, guiding him outside. Not a trace of his grin was left, and while Kaz could appreciate that, he certainly didn’t enjoy the rush with which Ocelot dragged him out: the leg prosthetic shifted uncomfortably and hurt against his raw skin, making him limp harder than usual. He was about to protest when Ocelot stopped and nudged him to the railing. He set both arms next to Kaz’s sides, leaning close. The tip of his nose practically touched his face, Kaz could see drops of sweat on his forehead, long, narrow lines in the corners of his eyes, the disturbed frown on the bridge of his nose. Ocelot’s shoulders bulged, he glanced to the left, then to the right. The whole platform was quiet, and a lonesome skylark cried above them. Kaz heavily leaned onto the railing.

“What are you up to,” Kaz uttered through his clenched teeth, half from alertness, half from the pain in his leg.

“This poem has something to do with our violent predicament,” Ocelot muttered.

“So?” Kaz narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not mere poetry, it’s a puzzle. Think about it. It indicates time and place: predawn at the East, and the purpose: cross swords.” His eyes flickered with a glint of jauntiness. Kaz snorted, shaking his head.

“Sounds like an invitation to a meeting, doesn’t it?” smirked Ocelot.

“It certainly does,” Kaz allowed himself to smirk back. “Better deliver it to the Intel team for further investigation.”

“Will do.”

There was a smooth turn, a chime of spurs. Wind caught Ocelot’s scarf and flapped it like a red flag. He walked away, and before his feet hit the stairs, he stopped and looked back at Kaz.

“Forgot to tell ya, that funding request was approved by Boss.”

And he was gone. Taking a deep breath, Kaz bent against the railing.

So, he couldn’t catch the fleeting moment when things had changed. Couldn’t put his finger on what was off, why Snake was choosing everything against him. He sided up with Ocelot, he _chose_ Ocelot. Then he took in that woman. Kaz’s eyeballs burned under the sea breeze that wasn’t as comforting as it used to be in Costa Rica, where he and his boss were like one. Where his boss gave ear to his financial knowledge, where his boss needed his support, trusted him, hell, cherished him. That didn’t exist anymore.

The horizon was a scalding flame, corroding the edge where water melted into air. A strong reek of burning flesh hit Kaz’s nostrils, he jolted, darting his look about. As suddenly it disappeared. He felt his heart pounding in his chest with a well-familiar ache. Usually it came at nights, with cold sweat on his temples and the urge to grasp sheets in his fists, pull on them; it assaulted him unprotected and vulnerable. Kaz fixed his shades with trembling fingers. Better return and do something about the loads of paperwork he had piling up since breakfast that he hadn’t touched.

 

*******

 

“One last thing,” Ocelot tightened his fingers on the transmitter. “Please, be careful.”

Wind howled on the receiving end, Boss’ harsh breaths raggedly coming in.

“I will. Don’t worry.”

Ocelot stretched, yawning. Mission support was exhausting, he had to admit. When Boss was in, he ditched sleep to be with him, when Boss was out, he kept vigil to provide constant backup. Sure thing, Miller could do this, even could do it better – not that Ocelot aimed to compete. But he was so worn, sometimes passing out right on his desk, and Ocelot took lead from time to time. It was funny that Miller still got protective about his position, as if he feared to be robbed of it. What a wreck he’d become.

First sunrays bathed the Command Platform in rose gold; soldiers were dismounting in the distance. It was the last chance to take a nap. His stomach growled, gentle breeze touched his face with its cool whirls. Ocelot closed his eyes and took a deep breath of that sweet fresh air.

There was a rustle from above, shuffling of boots, voices: one male and one female. Ocelot pricked up his ears.

“...yeah. He might seem a little scary, but you just didn’t know him back in MSF days,” a deep male voice spoke.

“What was he like?” the woman inquired, curious.

“Oh, a total charmer. Despite working harder than anyone else, commander was the life and soul of the party. A bit of a womanizer, but really we all looked up to him. There was that unique juvenile eagerness and light in his eyes. He cheered on us, always, in the most trying of moments. And how he played the guitar – too bad you can’t hear it anymore. Always had a story to tell. And,” the voice started growing distant, steps retreating deeper into the strut, “he was really close to Boss. When Boss wasn’t on a mission, they were glued at the hip; some men even called them Siamese Twins. Such good friends, although there were rumors that–”

A strong gust carried his words away, scattered them out of reach. Ocelot pursed his lips, picking the revolver and idly spinning it on his index finger.

Not that he was surprised about that revelation. He’d seen some old pictures of Miller, some of them – most of them – with John. Miller was smiling in each one, showing off more often than not. And yet, pictures couldn’t convey what he’d just overheard.

Miller’s men had respected him, felt at ease around him. They hadn’t been intimidated and hadn’t run off every time he showed around. And Boss, John, had not only posed for a memento, he had valued Miller. Had been his best friend, a Siamese Twin in a pair. Funny thing, that.

A needy whimper drew his attention, a bump to his shin followed. Ocelot glanced down: DD was fawning against his legs, tail wiggling in joy, tongue out, breaths short from excitement. He was evidently asking for a caress, and Ocelot smiled, squatting to face him and rubbing behind his ear. DD had grown huge, a wholesome soldier.

“Good boy,” Ocelot murmured, eliciting a blissful bark from the dog. He sat up and licked Ocelot’s glove, then lay down, hiding his nose in his paws, whining a little sadly.

“You miss him?” asked Ocelot, stroking the silver fur on his scruff. DD gave a short bark of approval. What a smarty. Then, he stood up on all fours and took off running.

 

*******

 

Venom tucked the iDroid into his pocket, pressing his back to the cool metal wall. The wind was strong and brisk, blowing from the North for once. Some chillness was nice before hell of a time he would spent in African humidity.

The impending whir of a rotor reached his ears, and Venom looked up to the grey skies. He glimpsed Pequod sitting in the cockpit, the chopper hovering above the landing zone. Taking a deep breath, Venom headed forward.

“Boss! Wait!”

He stopped and turned. From across the platform, Ocelot was running to him with uncharacteristic haste. His features seemed disturbed, and Venom frowned: something was off.

Ocelot ran up to him, grasping his forearm and stooping to catch his breath.

“What happened?” Venom asked, gently supporting his elbow. Straightening, Ocelot nodded and beckoned him with a nod.

“I’ll tell you on the way, the jeep is waiting.”

It wasn’t often when Ocelot looked so serious, almost grave, and Venom hurried after him, radioing Pequod to delay departure.

When they boarded the car and the engine revved, Ocelot leaned against him and spoke into his ear in a muffled murmur.

“Four more soldiers were found maimed. The injuries are even more savage than the previous ones; two men have their faces mashed into bloody mess, lots of bones broken. And,” he took a pause, sighing, “there’s a woman this time.”

Something bitter pinched Venom’s stomach. Certainly, he shouldn’t have treated his recruits differently, but something about wrenching a woman was making his gut cold.

“You probably remember her,” continued Ocelot in a half-whisper. “It’s Sly Wolf, a sniper from the Combat Unit.”

“I remember her well,” nodded Venom.

“Thankfully, she took less damage, she’s conscious. Miller has already headed out to question her.”

A faint rain started to drip when they were reaching the Medical Platform, creating a thin mist around. Venom followed Ocelot up the stairs and into the ward. In there, Sly Wolf was lying in bed, her face and arms bandaged. Kaz was sitting beside her on a chair, his shoulders slouching and stiff.

“Boss,” Wolf attempted to salute, but Venom placed his flesh hand on her elbow.

Ocelot brought a chair for him and stood behind. Kaz leaned forward, fingering the handle of his cane.

“So, tell us what happened, in detail.”

Sly Wolf sighed. Her big eyes were staring blindly at her lap.

“First of all, I have to apologize for violating standing orders,” she began quietly. “I take the responsibility for the incident and am ready to receive punishment.”

“Cut it,” uttered Kaz curtly. “To the point, please.”

Venom paid him a glance: there was a deep frown imprinted on his forehead, a muscle above his mouth quivered.

“I was on watch when Wild Moose approached me with some nasty comment of chauvinistic nature,” Wolf said. Her hands clenched into fists. “I warned him, he didn't listen. I hit him first, he hit back; before I knew it, more men joined in. I presume they tried to break us up, but it ended up being a messy fight.”

She went silent. Ocelot cleared his throat.

“Who were the men who joined in?” demanded Kaz.

Wolf squinted, seemingly trying to recall.

“They weren’t from the Combat Unit. One of them was a guy from the Intel team, another... Another was Crimson Canine, if I’m not wrong. The redhead guy.”        

That was pretty much enough information to Venom’s account; he quickly remembered all the named soldiers. At his side, Kaz stirred, took a deep inhale.

“Are you telling me,” he said in a firm tone, “that men from the Intel team and the Base Development would commence a fight with a Combat Unit soldier? Just like that?”

“It was between me and–”

“And Wild Moose, who is a Base Development recruit as well,” nodded Kaz abruptly. Venom narrowed his eyes at him. “Listen, soldiers at Diamond Dogs respect each other. We take in everyone, we give them a chance to live a new life. There’s no such thing as sex differences, all are in the same boat.”

Wolf belligerently stared at Kaz for a moment.

“What are you driving at, Commander?”

“You’re lying.”

The room went silent with tension. From every direction, Venom felt sleazy heaviness; it crept about, forming a wacky premonition. Something was entirely wrong, and he couldn’t tell what exactly; a haphazard urge made him clasp Kaz’s shoulder and squeeze it. Kaz shrugged it off.

“Commander,” Wolf finally spoke, and her eyes shot up to his face. “Diamond Dogs are truly an outstanding organization. Never before in my life have I felt so accepted, so myself. I am what I am here – a sniper, a soldier, not someone who needs protection, not someone weak. And I do understand that male soldiers can’t help being worried about me, about Macaw and others sometimes, I can live with that. What I can’t tolerate, though, is other men being cocky enough to dare and interrupt my duty with cheap mockery. I lost my cool, that was my mistake. But the initial mistake was your hope that all men think like you do when you hired such specimen like Moose.”

There was a barely noticeable note of hard feelings in Kaz's features, but he maintained the last crumbles of dignity by silence. Venom stood up, patting Wolf’s shoulder. She looked at him with open, admiring eyes.

“Diamond Dogs are a family,” Venom spoke. “And we’ll do everything we can to make every single soldier feel at home here. Now, have some rest.”

The three of them left in silence. Outside, Kaz stopped in the middle of the strut and raised his face. Raindrops trailed down his shades, his face, got under the scruff of his coat. Venom stepped closer and touched his arm. Through the tinted lenses, he caught Kaz’s gaze – his faded eyes looked lost, desperate. The curve of his mouth flinched, and Venom rubbed his arm in reassurance. He winded his prosthesis under Kaz shoulder, took the cane from him and, not a word uttered, walked him to the car where Ocelot was waiting for them.

Later, in the dimly lit briefing room, Kaz plunged on the chair by his desk, Venom and Ocelot sat down at his sides. Red light was thickly enveloping the stale air, making it hard to breathe and think.

“The matter is more complicated than I expected,” Ocelot spoke first. He clenched his gloved hands together and put his chin on top of them, brooding. “Staff morale is getting out of hand, Boss.”

“I thoroughly interview every new recruit,” said Kaz, his voice blank. “It seems that it’s not nearly enough.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Kaz,” Venom muttered. At that, Kaz tensed.

“It’s not the time to seek a guilty party,” nodded Ocelot. “We are all to blame that we’ve been overlooking such issues. What we have to do now is act.”

“What can you do about it now,” Kaz chuckled without amusement.

“As the one responsible for staff orchestration, I suggest an array of mindset trainings.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” snarled Kaz. In his face and posture lingered a dense layer of tantrum, from under which peeked a treacherous note of frustration.

“It’s better than nothing,” Ocelot shrugged, not at all incursive to Kaz’s harsh tone.

Kaz looked about almost helplessly, bit his lip.

“What do you think, Snake?”

Venom looked at him, trying to figure out the expression under the shield of his aviators and failing.

“I think that’s all we can do for now,” he muttered, and Ocelot nodded in approval.

 

*******

 

They were sitting in one of the training halls reequipped into a semi-cozy conference room. Everyone had a chair and a cup of coffee, and Ocelot had been going on about reverent environment for hours now. Kaz had already forgotten where he’d lost the train of thought and the whole point of it; he was there for the good spirits, as Ocelot had kept insisting. If Boss couldn’t be present at the training, at the very least the Commander of Mother Base, the one whom everyone respected and admired, was required to attend – his words. Yet Kaz somewhat doubted the efficiency of his presence, or the efficiency of Ocelot's speech. Soldiers, scientists, developers, kitchen and medical staff – all eyes were on him, but looked past. Their attention wasn’t grasped, even more so, many looked blatantly bored. It was good enough that nobody had expressed how vain it was, but with every passing minute Kaz felt more and more detached from that pseudo-homelike artificial bond building.

His mind was far away, in the rainforests of Africa, between thick foliage and moist soil. It was utterly ridiculous to schedule this useless event during Snake’s operation, it left him without radio support save for the Intel team weather updates. His mission was a mere resource extraction, and yet Kaz couldn’t prevent his fingers from tightening on the transmitter underneath his coat.

Why was he still so fixated on having things under control? It wasn’t that he had any authority or influence over Boss, not anymore. Every other Kaz’s suggestion he ditched without a second thought. There wasn’t any argument, just a rejection uttered in his soft voice, and that softness was tearing Kaz apart.

The change in Snake was profound, but paradoxically it was exactly what was drawing Kaz more to him. As if he had to win him round all over again. How much effort it took him back then to tame a beast, to lead the deadly bullfight, giving away his dignity bit by bit because Snake was a proud animal. The result had been worth it, more often than not he’d had that bittersweet foretaste in his mouth, of blood, of passion.

“The sunsets are so pretty here,” he muttered in his best enticing tone, knowing by Boss' sharp exhale that he hit bull's eye. The bronze glow on Snake’s skin triumphantly cried of Kaz’s victory. He came prepared, the battle was not over, and he knew he’d take some blows before delivering his own final strike.

And that, in the purple light of falling sun, the crispy sand against his back, the scent of rainforest, Snake’s thighs around his torso – Kaz had won. From under his tilted shades, he watched Boss’ bewilderment as he cupped his jaw and slid his palm to the heated, muscular neck. They didn't sleep a wink that smoldering night.

A nauseous wave of coldness rolled from Kaz’s gut up to his throat. Dizzy mist floated in his head, and he gripped onto his cane to sustain himself.

That memory of their Costa Rica night was grimly buried in his mind alone, as if it never really existed.  

 

*******

 

_Gentle hearts are counted down_

_The queue is out of sight and out of sounds_

_Me, I'm out of breath, but not quite doubting_

_I've found a door which lets me out!_

He crawled out of thick tropical greens, taking in the surroundings. The dawn was beginning to break in, highlighting the glimmer of dew on massive leaves. In the distance shimmered another characteristic glint – a cold, metallic one. Venom pressed Pause on his Walkman and turned on the radio.

“Quiet,” he whispered into the transmitter. “Get in here.”

With a brisk swish, the glint was gone before he could blink. A strong gust brushed his cheek, and in smog vapor Quiet materialized by his side. She crouched, reloading her rifle with precise movements. It was soundless save for the creak of leather of her gloves. Emitting a drawn exhale, Venom rolled on his back, watching the blooming sky. The clouds were high and mashed, bathed in gold and amaranth and delicate rose of an early morning. A cup of coffee would be nice to go with the view, but he didn’t have that luxury.

He beckoned Quiet to get down, and she settled on the grass, facing the ground. He could see every strand of her hair that glowed with deep radiance in the smooth sunrays.

Luckily, the spot was deserted, and Venom reached over to unpack a snack. Chewing onto beef jerky, he caught Quiet’s attentive gaze fixed on him.

“You want some?” He handed the meat to her, on some polite instinct. A small smile pulled at her lips, she chuckled. Venom couldn’t help but smile back – her voice, though heard only in bits like hums and rare laughs, was pleasant to his ears, vibrant and youthful.

They lay in silence side by side, watching the awakening landscape. The moist greens and big flowers swung in the wind. Somewhere far off a bird sang its joyful song. Venom drank some water from a canteen and passed it to Quiet. She took it with a small nod.

The radio went on with a dial tone.

“Boss, you here?”

So early, and Kaz was already awake, his voice raspy as if those were the first words he’d uttered today.

“Yes. Good morning, Kaz.”

There was a slight pause on the other side.

“Good morning, Snake,” he muttered with a light hint of surprise. “I hate to break it to you first thing in the morning,” he continued in a rather grim tone, “but we’ve had another case of insubordination.”

Venom sat up, firming his hold on the transmitter. He glanced at Quiet – she was frowning.

“What happened?”

“Remember the new posters I ordered to spread out across the Base?”

“Those intimidating black and yellow ones?”

Kaz clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, if you will. We just found out that they were vandalized. Someone drew vague symbols on them with red paint.”

Venom sighed and rubbed his chin. His head was starting to ache.

“Not only it’s a form of disrespect,” Kaz went on, “but there might as well be some false bottom to it, like in the code poem we encountered before.”

“Was it deciphered?” Venom inquired.

“Not yet.” Kaz took a shaky breath. His tiredness was almost palpable. “But I’m almost sure it's relevant.”

Not at all hard, Quiet nudged his ribs. Venom followed her pointing finger, noting a wolf at the distance of about one hundred meters. He shook his head strictly, and Quiet slouched her shoulders.

“Kaz,” Venom lowered his voice, marking the animal’s location on the iDroid. “Don’t worry about this now. I’ll take a look at these signs when I’m back.”

“But, Snake–” he muttered in a faltering breath, and cut himself. “Okay, fine. Do your duty.”

The transmission was over, but something lingered, again, unspoken and disturbing. For a moment, Venom peered at the sky where stark blueness was taking over the soft hues. But one cloud was crimson, shaped like a giant whale. Not only that – it swam in heavens, leaving behind a trace of red.

He blinked and shook his head. The whale was gone.

 

*******

 

Rare raindrops knocked on the metallic roof in a soothing rhythm. Ocelot’s eyelids slid down, and he blinked awake. The chair he was sitting on was too comfortable, and he was too drowsy, drifting back and forth in the fresh chillness that was seeping in through a grand porthole in the ceiling. He picked the forgotten book from his lap, opening it where the dog-ear marked.

_"He is always making mischief among us," they would say, and spit in contempt. "He always has some thought which he keeps to himself. He creeps into a house quietly, like a scorpion, but goes out again with an ostentatious noise. There are friends among thieves, and comrades among robbers, and even liars have wives, to whom they speak the truth; but Judas laughs at thieves and honest folk alike, although he is himself a clever thief. Moreover, he is in appearance the ugliest person in Judaea. No! he is no friend of ours, this foxy-haired Judas Iscariot," the bad would say, thereby surprising the good people, in whose opinion there was not much difference between him and all other vicious people in Judaea. <...>_

_He had wandered for many years aimlessly among the people, and had even gone from one sea to the other,–no mean distance,–and everywhere he lied and grimaced, and would make some discovery with his thievish eye, and then suddenly disappear, leaving behind him animosity and strife. Yes, he was as inquisitive, artful and hateful as a one-eyed demon._

Although he tried hard to concentrate, the lines weren’t grasping his attention; he kept re-skimming through them to no avail. A metal clank drew his attention, and he warily glanced up to the cell.

Quiet was leaning against the bars, her wet hair plastered to her face and neck. She pointed up with her index finger.

“Hm?”

A targeted communication. That was new; intrigued, Ocelot stood up and walked to the cell. With a punctured motion, Quiet pointed at his ear, and up again. Ocelot listened.

Somewhere up there, pretty muffled, sounded a repeated thud. Like one of a crutch against the floor.

“Miller?” he asked, and Quiet nodded. What magnificent hearing.

“What about him?”

With both hands, Quiet gripped onto the bars and dropped her head down. Then she looked up, her eyes rolling, mouth twitched in irritation. She made a helpless gesture, and Ocelot noted that her right arm and left leg went invisible. He crossed his arms on his chest and watched.

She walked a round in a limping pace, her features angry and sharp, so very much resembling Miller’s ever-present expression. She stopped and clutched her head, now with both visible hands. Amused, Ocelot laughed wholeheartedly.

“You don’t like him, huh?” he assumed, resting his elbows on the bars, leaning closer. Quiet stepped forward, and her mouth twisted again.

“You know, he has his reasons to act like he does,” mused Ocelot, glancing up. The clouds were enveloping the sky, obviously not intending to disperse soon.

Something in her eyes spoke of piqued interest; they seemed milder all of a sudden. Tentatively, she pressed two bent fingers to her forehead from the right side, a silent question in her look. Concern.

“When it comes to Boss, it’s...” he paused, realizing that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Quiet watched him with attention, waiting. Ocelot drew a breath.

“We are all special to him,” he muttered wistfully. “But most importantly, he’s special to us.”

He didn’t know why, but his voice faltered. There was an acute pain in his chest, and he brought his hand to it. His eyed widened when Quiet clasped his hand in a firm fist; an attack might come, but he looked into her face and she was smiling sadly.

 

*******

 

It was dark, the wind howled through the empty platform. Venom crumpled the note with scribbled signs in his bionic fist. From a far distance, in the direction of a vehicle hangar, were coming dim, eerie sounds – roars as of demons, full of pain and hatred. Tonight the shrapnel was pressing harder into his skull than usual, red lights blurry, the looming building stretching far out into the black sky. A well-familiar scent of blood hit his nostrils, and after a moment of hesitation he headed to whatever hell pit was about to welcome him.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs from this chapter:  
> [Sweet Thing/Candidate/Sweet Thing (Reprise)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCqsJzBwjNQ) by David Bowie  
> [Heart of Glass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aa911_8TP2s) by Blondie  
> [Rock'n'roll With Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GL7yAwfZRH4) by David Bowie  
> The book that Ocelot reads at the end is _Judas Iscariot_ by Leonid Andreev


End file.
